


Drive

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Coming Down [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Blow Jobs, Canon Injury, Caretaking, D/s AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:24:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s just taking care of Jags.  That’s all he has to worry about.  So Aaron takes a deep breath and follows Jags inside, calmer now that he has a goal in mind.  Willie had told him to take care of Jags.  That's what he's going to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drive

**Author's Note:**

> getting your teeth knocked out may not get you new ones from santa, but it will get you a blowjob from aaron ekblad.
> 
> I do not represent the real people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I make any claim about what they do or do not do in their private lives.

Aaron’s just getting to the bench for a change when everything stops, and everyone on the bench jumps up.  He turns, straddling the half-boards, and nearly falls off when he sees Jags crumpled on the ice by the Senators’ goal.

A couple of the guys grab him and pull him back onto the bench.  Aaron can barely feel their hands on him.  Jags still hasn’t gotten up.

And then he rolls over, and buries his face in his hands again.  Relief pours through Aaron; Jags is conscious, can move, and that’s so much better than it could have been, than he had expected.

“There’s blood,” Willie says grimly, next to him.  Aaron shakes off his glove and grabs hold of his collar, grounding himself in the stiff leather digging into the palm of his hand.  He can’t take his eyes off of Jags.

The trainer’s there, holding gauze to Jagr’s mouth.  And finally he stands up, skates back to the bench, hunched over.  Aaron stands, still holding his collar tightly, trying to catch Jags’s eye.

Jags doesn’t look over at the bench at all.  He skates over, goes through the door, and back down the tunnel.

Dimly, he hears the crowd cheering, for Jags getting off the ice under his own steam.  Aaron can’t really be happy about that, not yet, not until he sees for himself that Jags is fine.

 

.oOo.

 

Jags comes back to the game – the injury was only in the first period – and Aaron feels a little better.  Every time Jags grins at a play or a chirp, Aaron can see the gap in his mouth from down the ice.

They win.

It’s the last game before the break, thank God.  They go back to the room in high spirits, shouting to each other from their stalls, stripping out of sweaters and pads.

Aaron hurries to his stall, next to Jags, shrugging off the other guys reaching out to run their hands through his hair or down his back.

Jags is sitting in his stall, undoing his pads.

Aaron doesn’t even care he’s still in all his gear.  He plops into Jags’s lap and wraps his arms around his neck and holds on tight.  Even though Jags is fine – will need dental work, but he’s fine – Aaron can’t get over seeing him spread out on the ice, unmoving.

“I’m fine,” Jags says, but his arms come up around Aaron and pull him close.  Aaron’s helmet gets in the way when he tries to press his face into Jags’s neck; someone comes up next to them, Willie by the gentleness of his hands, and unbuckles the strap to pull his helmet off.  Aaron can’t even pull himself together to look at Willie; he just buries his face in the join of Jags’s shoulder and neck.

“I know you’re fine,” Aaron mutters belatedly.

He doesn’t know how to say that this is his team, and they’re all his guys, and he doesn’t want any of them to get injured.  He doesn’t know how to say it’s worse because it’s Jags, who’s more his than most of the other guys are.  It’s the same way he’d be that much more upset if Willie was crumpled on the ice with his teeth in a trainer’s hand.

Jags gets it.  He presses a kiss to Aaron’s sweaty hair; it feels different without his teeth there.

“You stay for a little bit, and then you need to change,” Jags says, breath whistling strangely through his teeth.  “Me, too.  We’re both sweaty.”

Aaron nods.  He doesn’t want to let go, but he knows they need to get dressed.  He kisses Jags’s neck gently, a little reassurance, before pulling away.

Jags gets a hand in Aaron’s hair and tugs.  “Willie let you come home with me?”

Aaron nods immediately, then hesitates.  He’s sure Willie will say yes, but he doesn’t want to promise something he can’t.  “I’ll ask.”

Aaron takes his pads off quickly, hanging them in his stall and sitting to peel the tape off of his socks.  Willie comes over, again, when Jags has gotten up to go the shower.

“Can I go home with him tonight?” Aaron blurts out, before Willie can say anything.

Willie just laughs and messes up Aaron’s sweaty hair.  “If that’s what you want, kid.”

“Of course it is,” Aaron replies with a frown.  Does Willie think he doesn’t want to take care of Jags?

“I know,” Willie soothes, tugging the ring on the front of his collar.  “You take care of Jags, okay?”

“I will,” Aaron says, and smiles up at him.  Willie hikes his towel up on his waist and turns to go back to his stall.  “Don’t keep the guy waiting.”

Aaron nods and sheds the rest of his gear, grabbing a towel from his stall and hurrying into the showers.  Jags already has a head start.

He showers fast, keeping an eye on Jags, to see when he leaves the showers to go back.  Aaron goes back out a minute or so after him, hair dripping down his neck.

The guys don’t try to hold him up, not like they usually do, dragging their hands over his wet skin.  Everyone seems to know that Aaron is Jags’s tonight, and no one else’s.

Aaron pulls his boxers and slacks on, towels his hair again before he puts on his shirt and jacket, stuffs his tie in his pocket.

Jags is dressed, phone out in his hand.

Willie comes over again, pauses for just a moment to cup the back of Aaron’s head and kiss him firmly.

“See you tomorrow,” he tells Aaron, and then leaves.

Aaron sits next to Jags and waits for him to be ready to leave, too.

 

.oOo.

 

Jags drives them back to his place, uncharacteristically quiet in the car.  Usually Aaron can expect some chirping, some flirting, lots of jokes.  Jags never runs out of jokes.  But he’s quiet, now, and Aaron doesn’t really know what to say.

They pull into the driveway.  Aaron twists his hands in his lap and gets out of the car when Jags does.  He hasn’t felt this off-balance with Jags since the first time he went back to his hotel room with him.

He’s just taking care of Jags.  That’s all he has to worry about.  So Aaron takes a deep breath and follows Jags in, calmer now that he has a goal in mind.  Willie had told him to take care of Jags.

Once they’re inside, Aaron takes Jags bag from him and puts it on the chair in the living room, the one that always has at least one of Jags’s jackets thrown over it.  He ushers Jags to the couch, blushing faintly at the laugh Jags lets out.

“Do you want something to drink?” Aaron asks, standing in front of him.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you?” Jags replies.

Aaron frowns and shakes his head.  “I’ll take care of it.”

Jags grins at him, the gap in his teeth prominent.  “Then I’ll have—”

“No alcohol,” Aaron cuts in.  “They gave you something for the pain, right?”

Jags grabs Aaron’s hand and kisses the back of it.  “Such good care.  Juice, then.”

Aaron narrows his eyes.  “You can’t eat, right?”

Jags just pokes his tongue through the gap in his teeth.

“Smoothie,” Aaron decides.  He walks over to the kitchen door, and pauses.  “Do you know if you have chicken broth?”

“Might be some in a can.”

Aaron nods and pushes through the door, turning again to point at Jags.  “Stay there!”  He says, and then goes in to start on the smoothie.  He knows what Jags likes in one – can’t really be on a team with him without knowing – so he grabs some of the berries in the fridge and a banana from the counter. He pours in some of the orange juice from the fridge, because that _is_ what Jags had originally wanted, and some yogurt.

He finds the chicken broth in a cabinet next to the stove, with all the other things that Jags doesn’t use often enough.  Aaron opens the can and pours it into a bowl, popping it into the microwave while he blends the smoothie.  He doesn’t want to make it too hot, in case Jags’s mouth is sensitive, but he can’t bring it to him cold.

It’s all done fast enough that Aaron doesn’t worry about leaving Jags by himself.  He grabs a spoon, pours the smoothie into a glass, and carries it all back out into the living room.

Jags is slouched on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table.  Aaron hands him the smoothie, first, and puts the chicken broth down on the coffee table.

He settles next to Jags, curling up against his side while Jags drinks the smoothie.

“Good?” Aaron asks, wanting to make sure he’s doing a good job.

“Yeah,” Jags replies, drinking some more.  “Vanilla yogurt?”

Aaron nods, squeezing Jags’s hand a little.  “It’s what you had, so—”

“It’s good,” Jags assures him, squeezing back.  “Really, Aaron.”

“I’m glad, Jags,” Aaron breathes out, resting his head on Jags’s shoulder.

“Jaro,” he corrects, smiling down at Aaron.  “First name, yeah?”

Aaron nods and smiles to himself.  It was almost second nature to use Jaro’s nickname, but the invitation to use a more personal name, different from the rest of the team, is heartening.  He only really called Willie and Meg by their first names, here in Florida.  And now Jaro.

“You ready for the broth?” he asks quietly.

“Want something besides broth,” Jaro teases, pressing his lips to Aaron’s neck, above his collar.

“Broth first,” Aaron says firmly.  He reaches for the bowl and hands it to Jaro, taking the smoothie glass from him.  “You need the salt.”

Jaro groans dramatically, but picks up the spoon and takes a sip.  Aaron settles back against him, rubbing his head against Jaro’s shoulder.

They never really do this, unless Aaron’s deep in subspace.  There’s a focus on – on the other things that Aaron can do to take care of someone.  He likes having Jaro pressed against him, focusing on what he can do for him without either of their pants off.

Not that he doesn’t love that, too.

He’s almost falling asleep when Jaro puts the bowl of soup down, again, completely empty.

“Mmm, do you feel any better?” Aaron asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Much,” Jaro says, kissing Aaron softly.  “Take good care of me.”

Aaron smiles, and ducks his head.  He’s more used to being taken care of.

“Time for bed?” Jaro asks him.  Aaron nods.

Jaro needs to sleep, get his energy back from the game so he can put it into healing.

 

.oOo.

 

Aaron wakes up when Jaro curses and rolls away from him.  Jaro’s bed is big and soft, with comfortable sheets and a heavy, fluffy comforter.  Aaron might like it more than the Mitchell’s bed; he should convince them to get a comforter like Jaro’s.

He hears Jaro curse again, and finally opens his eyes.  Jaro’s shaking out pills from a prescription bottle into the palm of his hand, but he’s trembling.  Aaron shifts closer and takes the bottle from him.

“How many are you supposed to take?” he asks quietly.

Jaro holds up one finger.  It must be too painful to talk.

Aaron hands it to him; Jaro pops it into his mouth and downs it, with a sip from the water bottle on the bedside table.

“How long does it take to work?” Aaron asks, then winces.  “Sorry.  Don’t answer that.”

Jaro just smiles tightly at him.  Aaron can still see the pain etched in his face, and from his own experience with pain meds, it won’t get any better for at least half an hour.

He knows what he can do to put it out of Jaro’s mind, though.

Aaron slides down under the comforter, spreading Jaro’s legs and settling between them.  He knows Jaro sleeps naked, but it’s still a little thrill to be face to face with Jaro’s hardening cock without any sort of work to undress him.

Jaro hums; Aaron takes it as the permission it was intended to be, and fists Jaro’s cock.  He pumps it a few times, feeling it get harder in his hand.  Then he ducks his head, pressing his lips to the tip.

He hears Jaro groan, muffled by the comforter around him.  He sucks more of Jaro’s cock into his mouth and closes his eyes, focusing on the weight of him on his tongue.

Aaron doesn’t get fancy.  He knows how Jaro likes his blowjobs: tight suction on the head, and then choking Aaron on his length.  It’s better when Jaro’s hands are in his hair, forcing him down while he thrusts up into Aaron’s mouth, but Aaron likes doing it himself, too, focusing his breathing and working more of Jaro’s cock down his throat.

Jaro moans again, louder, and his hips twitch up, forcing his cock in further.  Aaron can’t help the noise that slips out around Jaro’s cock.  He pulls back for a quick breath, then goes down again, until his nose is pressed to Jaro’s stomach.  He swallows around him, steels himself, and swallows again.

Jaro’s hand sneaks under the comforter and grips Aaron’s hair tightly, sending pinpricks of pain through his scalp.  Aaron takes a breath and lets Jaro push him down, staying there as long as he can, Jaro thrusting up into his mouth.

God, it’s good.  It’s even better when Jaro bucks up again and comes in his mouth.  Aaron hurries to swallow it all, letting Jaro’s cock slip out of his mouth once it’s clean.

Aaron crawls up the bed, grinning down at Jaro once his head clears the comforter.  “Better?”

Jaro nods and brushes his cheek against Aaron’s, a facsimile of a kiss.  He can see the crinkles at the corner of Jaro’s eyes that mean he’d be smiling, if it didn’t hurt to do so.

“Go back to sleep,” Aaron whispers, settling against Jaro’s chest.  He knows that Jaro likes to nap after he comes; this way he can sleep until the medicine starts working on his pain.

Jaro’s arms come up around his waist, pulling Aaron tight against him.  That’s when Aaron notices he’s hard, with his hips pressed to Jaro’s thigh.  He just sighs and rubs his face against Jaro’s shoulder; he can wait until Jaro wakes up and has something to eat to get a handjob, or even jerk himself off in the shower.

It’s not about him.  It’s about what he can do for Jaro.

He hears Jaro’s breath even out, his arms relaxing a bit around Aaron.  Aaron smiles to himself and closes his eyes, content in a job well done.

**Author's Note:**

> join me in sin on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes.tumblr.com


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